Page 163 of The Head Game

August’s heart twinged. He could imagine how he felt right now.

August skated over and Nico straightened, though he remained sitting.

“Hey, you okay?” August asked, concerned.

He leaned his elbows on the boards, staring intently at Nico, studying his face.

“Yeah, fine.” But Nico’s smile was tight and there was a strain around his eyes August didn’t like.

“Missing this?”

“Of course.”

“Your head’s okay tho—”

“I don’t need you checking up on me,” Nico snapped. But he immediately grimaced. “Sorry. I … I know you’re worried. I didn’t mean to …”

“I was concerned,” August said slowly. “But I don’t want to nag you. If you say you feel okay, then I trust you.”

Nico shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I’m just feeling shitty about not being able to be out there, you know? It’s good to see the team but it’s a huge fucking reminder I’m not there. And I can’t do half the shit I want to do. Physically, I feel fine though.”

“Good.” Because what else could August say?

“You look pretty good out there though,” Nico said, his expression lightening. “I like watching you skate. You have good form.”

August straightened, leaning his hip against the boards. “Yeah? Think I could’ve made it in the NHL?”

“With your drive and the right training? Definitely,” Nico said without hesitation. “Just think, we could have been teammates, maybe.”

“Or on rival teams,” August suggested. “I could have played for the Montreal Lynx or something.”

Nico grinned. “That seems more likely. We could have started out hating each other.”

“So … exactly like this, then?” August gestured between the two of them.

Nico made a noise of mock outrage. “I didn’t hate you, Auggie.”

“No, you liked driving me nuts.”

“Well, you were so serious,” Nico said with a laugh. “If I couldn’t get you to have fun, I could at least annoy you.”

“Weird way to flirt,” August teased, relieved to see Nico looking lighter again.

Nico shrugged. “Seems to have worked out okay for us.”

But August wondered. What would have happened if Nico hadn’t had a seizure that night in Buffalo? If he hadn’t been injured, if August hadn’t rushed to the hospital and lied about who Nico was to him, would any of this have happened?

Or would the one night in Evanston been the end of it for them?

And why did that thought make August so sad?

* * *

Nico tried to put on a happy face. He tried as hard as he could but it was fucking painful to watch everyone doing what he wanted to do.

Nico itched to be out there, itched to feel the smooth glide of his blades against the ice, the cool air against his cheeks.

He felt like a bird with its wing clipped, tethered to the ground, forced to walk when he knew he could fly.

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